


Halloween Is A Magical Time Of Year

by Skye_Light



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Choking, F/M, Halloween, Post-Canon, Post-War, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_Light/pseuds/Skye_Light
Summary: Three consecutive Halloweens, which Hermione goes through, each one better than the previous. There isn't much of a story, so you don't need to read everything.First chapter - angst (maybe?), slight piningSecond Chapter - smut (explicit smut), some angst, some fluff at the endThird Chapter - fluff, domestic dynamic, implied smut, some angst (for good measure)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione used to love Halloween even before she went to Hogwarts, and she loved it even more while she was there. But since she graduated, Halloween in the wizarding world has been challenging, to say the least. The first year, after graduation, she, Harry, and Ron went out to a wizarding club, dressed up, disguised. But they were still recognised. Everyone was crowding them, asking them all sorts of questions and as the night went on and everyone got more drunk the questions became less about their fame for saving the world, and more about why Ron and Hermione broke up just a few months after the war ended, and why Harry and Ginny hadn’t made a public appearance together in some time. She hated that – it was one thing to have to explain how she and the boys went on the run for months, it was something completely different to have strangers pry into her personal life. She and the boys ended up leaving early and going straight to Harry and Ron’s place. Unfortunately, everyone’s mood was spoiled.  
“We could watch a film?” offered Harry. Ron was sat on the sofa next to him, Hermione was sitting on the floor, her back pressed to the sofa’s armrest, her knees to her chest. “There are plenty of Halloween themed films…”  
“I’m good mate.” Interrupted Ron. He had taken the breakup quite hard but had been more than gracious about it. After all, he understood better than everyone, but the numerous questions tonight, coming from all sides, only reopened the wound. Hermione herself had been feeling more guilty than ever.   
“I’m actually going to head home early.” She said and stood up. She looked over at Harry with an apologetic smile but couldn’t brave looking at Ron.  
“Mione, you don’t have to.” Started Harry, but when Ron didn’t join in, she said goodnight and headed home.   
Hermione didn’t stay home long either, she washed all her make-up off and instead went to Diagon Alley, and from there to the best place she could think off. Hidden away in a small nook was a bar notorious for one thing – whatever happens there stays a secret. Well, that’s a gross exaggeration but patrons got a lot more privacy than anywhere else. She made her way inside and ordered two double fire whiskeys. She immediately downed the first one, before making her way further inside. That was part of the privacy – the bar was at the entrance and there was no staff further in. It meant that all manner of debauchery was going on inside the establishment, but it also meant that even if someone recognised her, they wouldn’t tell anyone and risk their dirty laundry told to the world by the Golden Girl.   
“Well, well. If it isn’t the brightest witch of her age.” She spun around, fire whiskey sloshing in her cup. Draco Malfoy, looking decidedly better than the gaunt boy who returned to Hogwarts after the war, took a step back and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Grainger.” She looked around out of habit.  
“What? No goons tonight?” she referred to his usual company, most of them his former Slytherin buddies. He shrugged his shoulders, mimicking her move and looking around.  
“You don’t seem to have your bodyguards with you either. Potter and Weaselby are nowhere to be seen, or should I expect an ambush?” She huffed.   
“I already partied with them. Hey went home.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. A wide smile spread across Malfoy’s face and he laughed. Hermione was startled – she had never seen a sincere smile on his face or heard him laugh unless it was at the expense of someone else.  
“I never thought you were the after-party type of person, but I respect that.” He raised his glass to her, and she met his halfway. “Feel free to join me, my goons, as you so affectionately called them, are all too busy to hang out with me tonight.” He didn’t wait for a response, just walked away. Hermione looked around then down at her drink. A voice inside her head was screaming that this was a bad idea, but she was already following Draco Malfoy.   
They sat at a small table on the far side of the room, more or less covered in shadows and Halloween decorations. Hermione was surprised to admit that when Malfoy was not being an arse and was slightly drunk, he was a tolerable company.   
“So what is the Golden Girl dong now?” he asked, slowly rotating his glass.  
“Don’t call me that.” She said and caught him look at her inquisitively. “I work for the Ministry. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” He nodded and leaned forward.   
“And how is office work treating you?”  
“It’s terrible.” She said before she could stop herself. But the cat was out of the bag, so she continued. “I love the purpose I’m serving, but the work itself is mind-numbing most of the time. Yesterday, someone dropped a folder and I got so startled I almost hexed them. It’s just so easy to forget that the war is over.” He lowered his eyes and looked down. She felt guilty for bringing it up – he might have been pardoned, seeing as he became a Death Eater as a child, but his father was serving time in Azkaban, and his mother, the word is, has been getting worse and worse. She was about to ask him what he was up to when he interrupted her.  
“I know how you feel.” He said, still not meeting her eyes. “You might be happy to hear this, seeing where you work, but I had to forbid my house-elves to work around the house after dinner. Last week I had an episode because I heard footsteps outside the study. I was certain someone was coming to finish the job.” Hermione took in a deep breath. She felt stupid for not realising that sooner. He had to come back to Hogwarts for a whole year and live with people who, best case scenario, didn’t care enough to stop those who actively despised him. He was constantly bullied, hexed, jinxed, several death threats were reported and most likely many more were left unreported. Even when she thought about how he bullied her, she didn’t think it measured up. At least she had Harry and Ron.  
“Do you want another drink?” She realised she was staring at her empty cup and had been silent for a while.   
“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”  
“Looks and sounds dangerous.” He tapped his temple. “I’d avoid thinking altogether if I could.” He motioned towards her glass, a silent repeat of his question.  
“Yes, please.” He nodded and left.  
The first thing that little voice in her head said was that now was her chance to vanish. She could leave, hide in the crowd pretend this never happened. She looked around and saw a foursome getting busy at a table not too far away from her. She quickly looked away and towards the exit. There were enough people for her to evade him, go home and overthink this day for the rest of her life. But as she was pondering that another thought came rushing, and for some reason, it glued her to her chair. What if this is exactly what he had done? The pretence was the perfect one – he would have to go all the way to the bar, which was basically the exit. He had gone. She looked back at her empty glass and wondered why she felt so hurt by that. She didn’t necessarily like him, she never had, so this reaction seemed irrational. But then she recognised it – she felt abandoned, not necessarily by Malfoy. Just abandoned in general. She was getting the nerve to gather her stuff and go before risking further humiliation when a slender hand, adorned with silver rings, placed a glass of fire whiskey in front of her. He sat silently back in his chair and his eyes darted to the foursome. Things there seemed to be getting serious. He chuckled and shook his head, looking back at her.  
“So, we talked about me. What do you do now that school is over with.” He looked around and opened his arms wide.  
“Pretty much this. I drink always most of the night, sleep until the early afternoon.” She looked at him, mock judgement in her eyes.  
“According to my calculations that would leave you with” she pretended to count on her fingers, “that would leave around 6-7 hours to spare. What happens in those.” He leaned back and gestured ho himself, head to toe.  
“This doesn’t just happen, Granger. Some of us have to put effort to look good.” For a moment she felt offended by that. He had made crude comments about looks all her childhood. But that wasn’t what he said.   
“Are you trying to pay me a compliment?” she asked, mortified the words had slipped.  
“I was. Judging by the use of the word try, I’d guess I wasn’t successful.”  
“No, no. It was an honourable attempt.” He winced.  
“That somehow sounded worse than a rejection.” She laughed and he joined her.  
“It would have helped if you hadn’t spent years trying to insult my appearance.” She said.  
“There we go again with that word. Is there nothing I did successfully since we’ve met?” She saw the regret in his face as the words were coming out, but there was no stopping them.  
There had been plenty of things he’d done successfully, and a lot of them had caused harm t her and many others. He cleared his throat, “Granger, I am terribly sorry. For all my comments in the early years, but more importantly for…” he hesitated, and she reached over putting her hand on his forearm. He flinched away slightly but didn’t remove his arm.  
“I know.” Was all she said. She knew manners mandated she said she accepts his apology, but she couldn’t. It would be a lie, at least partially. She could forgive him for the snide jokes about her hair, teeth, or dress. But there was a lot more she couldn’t overlook. She removed her hand and leaned back in her chair. “But you do have some free time, as we established, so maybe focus on mastering the art of compliments.”  
They continued to joke about light-hearted topics until they had both finished their drinks. Hermione decided that it was getting late and she should go home.   
“Goodbye, Granger.” He said rising from his chair as she did.  
“Bye, Malfoy.” She responded and left grabbing her coat. He sat back down. The following days she thought of bringing it up with the boys or Ginny, but that little voice in the back of her head was less easy to ignore without the help of fire whiskey. After a few weeks passed, she decided it was too late now.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione dreaded next year’s Halloween before it even approached so it was a very pleasant surprise when McGonagall invited her and Neville to come to Hogwarts for a week to help lift the student’s spirits. Halloween at Hogwarts was magical and she couldn’t wait to relive it. It wasn’t until she was actually at Hogwarts that she remembered that things were far less magical now. Most of the kids still carried the weight of the war, ay of them were prescribed potions for various issues, and Hermione knew that these potions could switch your mind off, which was both a blessing and a curse. Two representatives of each house were present to help guide the first-year students through the best possible Hogwarts experience. It was a pleasant surprise to see that one of the Ravenclaw representatives was Luna. She immediately whisked Neville and Luna and the three f them went to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer, before having t begin their official duties.   
“I’m surprised they didn’t invite Harry.” Said Neville. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s just that maybe he would cheer more people up.” Luna nudged him and smiled at him.  
“I disagree. You’re a very good choice.”  
“Where’s Harry? And Ron?” asked Neville, his face becoming a deep shade of red.  
“Harry was just assigned a shift to Azkaban. He’s preparing for that.” She shook her head, her stomach suddenly a ball of nerves. “I didn’t think it’s a good idea, sending him there, but those are the rules. Ron’s on desk duty for two months – he broke his arm during training.”  
“Then they should have called Ron over here.” Hermione laughed at Neville.  
“Oh, no. Ron can’t stop complaining when he gets a cold, I don’t think he will be very capable of organising a bunch of 11-year-olds.”  
“Might be funny, though.” Added Luna and the three of them laughed.  
When they entered the Great Hall and were informed that they would be sitting at the professor’s table, Hermione was both excited and disappointed. She kind of wanted to sit back at the Gryffindor table, but this was somewhat better – she had never seen the Great Hall from this angle. All those children, all of the potential in this room, it teared her up. Neville, who was sitting on her right took her hand in his and squeezed. She whispered a quiet thank you and tried to compose herself. Her surprise, however, was difficult to hide, when on her left sat no other than Draco Malfoy. Hermione hadn’t seen him since last Halloween, but she couldn’t help but notice that he looked different, paler and somehow more alert. There was no trace left of the tipsy care-free man who had joked and laughed with her.   
“Malfoy.” She greeted him.  
“Granger.” He met her eyes and for a second she thought he was surprised she greeted him at all. “Longbottom.” He said looking over to Neville. He mumbled a hello in return and Hermione squeezed his hand in turn, trying her best to tell him everything was alright. She spent the whole dinner overthinking every moment of that meeting, and every time she could have brought it up. Even today, with Luna and Neville, she could have mentioned it, but she didn’t.   
“Lost in thought again?” A quiet whisper from her left brought her back to reality. She blushed, looking quickly to Draco, before focusing on her plate – her peas were now mashed. “Poor peas.”  
“How long?” She asked, hoping he knew what she was talking about. She didn’t want to get caught talking to Malfoy. Childish, whispered that voice in her head, but she did her best to ignore it.  
“About 15 minutes.” He answered quietly. His voice sounded muffled as if he was speaking without moving his lips, which calmed her down. He didn’t want to get caught either. Extremely childish, that bloody voice again. Hemione finished her wine in one go, hoping it will silence that damned voice. She had hated it since before the war, but it kept her alive during it, so she didn’t fight it then. But now it was just annoying. McGonagall rose from her seat and gathered everyone’s attention.  
“Tomorrow the house alumni will meet you in the common rooms after classes finish, to answer your questions. Please be respectful. I trust you will welcome them accordingly and will not overstep the boundaries of what’ considered acceptable behaviour.” McGonagall said pointedly, her eyes scanning the whole room, “I wish you a happy Halloween.” She said and sat back down. That was the official end of the dinner. Hermione continued eating her already mashed peas and the roast that came with them. When she reached for her cup of wine it was still empty. She was bout to curse under her breath when Neville patted her arm.  
“I’m going.” He said, giving her a heartfelt smile. “See you tomorrow.” She drew him in for a hug.  
“Night,” she said and let him go. He disappeared with many of the students and Hermione exhaled a deep breath off… relief? Disappointment? Grief? Hermione wasn’t sure, all she knew that she needed it. She looked at her empty goblet again.  
“I’ve brought fire whiskey.” Whispered Draco. He was leaning his head on his left fist, slightly turned to her. The girl on Draco’s left stood up and left, Hermione realised she looked familiar, but she had never actually met her, she doesn’t know her name.  
“Divination classroom.” He says and stands up.  
Hermione meets his gaze, and she could swear he’s challenging her, and damn her if she backed down from a challenge. She finished her meal without rushing, before heading directly to the divination classroom. For a second she thought she was lost, but she let her mind wander and her muscle memory kicked in and led her to the steps to the Divination tower. She froze halfway up the stairs. She was on her way to meet Draco Malfoy. She almost imagined herself going down the stairs and to the Gryffindor common room. But then what? She wouldn’t fall asleep, not here, amongst those walls. So, she climbed the rest of the stairs without thinking, o at least trying her best not to.  
“Hey,” is all her brain thought of when she entered the room and saw the blonde figure staring out one of the windows. H extended His right arm and Hermione took the bottle from him. “Thank you.”   
“You okay?” Hermione was rendered speechless. No one had asked her that since the war.   
“I–” she stopped herself. “I guess I am?” Malfoy turned to look at her, leaning on the window.  
“You guess?”  
“I” she hesitated again. “I don’t know.” She stepped forward, returning the bottle.   
“No one has asked me that in a long time.” He took a swig from the bottle. “How are you?” he huffed in response and she took another step forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. He turned toward her. He was silent for a long time, just looking at her.  
“I want people to stop tip-toeing around me.” He blurted out.   
“Me too. I want people to stop behaving like I’m going to break at the slightest mention of the war.” She looked at him and took the bottle. She drank long and brought the bottle down when she was breathless. “I want…” she stopped herself before she could say anything she regrets. They quietly passed the bottle between them until it was empty.  
“I never wanted to come back here.” He said looking out the window. “I just wanted to live my life as far away from this place as I could. But here I am.”  
“Why did you agree?” She asked. he was silent for a long moment.  
“For the same reason you did, I suppose. The children.” The way he said children was almost wistful, but his face was scrunched up in a grimace – his upper lip curled up as if the word was poison on his tongue.  
“The children?” asked Hermione, almost surprised.   
“You looked over them all night, what did you see?” Hermione looked out the window. She hadn’t seen much, at least it hadn’t processed it properly. Thinking back to it now – the long tables, the kids in their robes. The almost empty Slytherin table and the silence that emitted from that table. The same type of silence she remembered when she came back during the war.   
“This war will never be over, will it?” she asked quietly. “We’re not here to tell them about their houses and the wonderful years at Hogwarts, are we?”  
“We’re here to show them that…” he paused leaning forward to open the window and stuck his head out. The wind so high up was strong and his hair flew in all directions. He leaned back in and tried to smooth his hair in place. “We’re here to show them that it’s not your house that defines you.” His voice took on a poor imitation of McGonagall’s. “We should let our actions show a new path for this school and its houses.” Hermione chuckled and took another long sip. “What?”  
“You need to work on your McGonagall impersonation.” She said and they both laughed.   
“Bloody hell, Granger, how many more things will you assign me to do in my free time?” she remembered their conversation from last Halloween.   
“How is the art of compliments coming along?” He turned to look at her, leaning sideways, the image of grace. She could feel herself blush under his icy gaze.  
“I like what you’ve done with your hair.” He said, trailing his eyes from the top of her head to her shoulders. She had cut her long hair into a lob a few months back, but it was now almost past her shoulders. She didn’t like the length, she thought it rested awkwardly on her shoulders, so she would wear it half-up, tied in one way or another at the back of her hair. Currently, she had two braids gong across her temples, tied into a knot at the back. “You look more confident when you tie it away from your face.”  
“You are getting better at this.” She whispered and cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject. Because she could feel her heart picking up and she feared it. “Especially given the fact that you, Draco Malfoy, neglected to tell me that those hours are not wasted. I picked up a copy of ‘Theory of Academics’–”  
“Of course you did.” He grumbled and pushed away from the window, taking the bottle with him. Hermione turned around to follow him with her gaze around the room.  
“As I was saying, there was an article on alchemy, a quite well-written and informative one. Signed off, Draco Malfoy.” He shrugged, roaming the room, not saying anything. “Then I went into the Ministry archives and found out you’ve been publishing academic articles since we graduated.”  
“Glad to hear those archives are still standing.” His voice was cold and lifeless.  
“Why didn’t you tell me last year? Not that you had to,” she added quickly, “but it’s something to be proud of. I’ve tried multiple times to get an article published in that journal, and here you are – published 10 times in two years!”  
“Is this jealousy I hear? From the Golden Girl herself?”  
“It’s…” she unsure if it was in fact jealousy. “Bemusement. And I guess a little jealousy.” She admitted. “Why didn’t you mention it?”  
“Because I knew what you’d think. What everyone would think.” He sat in a chair and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how ridiculous he looked on those small chairs. They had always been uncomfortable and too low to the ground in her opinion, but Draco was tall and slender and for the first time tonight Hermione didn’t think he looked gracious. “A former Death Eater, researching Alchemy, the only possible reason could be that bloody philosopher stone.” He took a long sip and let the bottle dangle between his knees. Hermione walked over and took the bottle, taking another sip.  
“Don’t assume what I would think.”  
“Don’t play dumb, Granger. It’s beneath you.” His voice was cold, and he reached for the bottle. Hermione pulled it out of his reach and used it to give his outstretched hand a tap. His rings echo on the glass and clench into a fist.  
“How long have you been interested in Alchemy?” she asked taking a seat opposite him.  
“A few years. I was always good at potions and I had access to many Alchemical manuscripts. It was a way to fill the nights when I couldn’t sleep. It now fills the time between sleep and drinking.”  
“Your observation on the similarities between the Alchemical processes and the effects of Blood curses was…” she lost her thought, looking at his face. “You–”  
“Stop that.” He said leaning forward and snatching the bottle out of her hand. For a moment she felt like she was 16 again, and he was that same cruel boy. Then she blinked and the image was gone, but he noticed. She could see it in his eyes, and she understood it was the same look she’d just had. Pity. But he didn’t apologise, instead, his lip curled up in that same grimace. “Yes, I’m trying to learn more about Blood curses. If I can understand them better, maybe I can finally do something that would justify my existence.” He laughed bitterly and took another sip. He didn’t look at her but handed her the bottle.  
“Sometimes, when I think about having to live, to exist and take space,” she said looking at the bottle of fire whiskey as if it was the most important thing in her life. “I wonder if I have already completed my reason for existing. And now, sometimes, I catch myself wanting to go back.” She chuckled and looked up to see him already looking at her. But there was no pity in his eyes, not this time.   
“If going back is what you want, I can follow you around now and then, chucking insults at you.” He stretched one leg forward, rocking it on the heel of his dress shoe. “If you promise to keep Potter and Weasley away from me. I don’t want to be hexed by them.” She felt a tear roll down her cheek and she wiped it quickly.   
“I think it’s very ironic that it is you of all people, who I open up to.” She said and handed him the bottle. There was barely anything left, maybe a few sips. “Harry, Ron, Ginny. Whenever I try to talk to them they just look at me with so much pity and regret. I’ve tried healers and potions, I even thought of going to a psychologist, a muggle mind healer–”  
“I know what a psychologist is, Granger. I was a bigot, not uneducated.” She shot him a glare.  
“This is exactly what I mean. You don’t act like I am about to break at any moment, even though I feel like I am about to.” She took the bottle and drained the last sip. He’d stood up and was now towering over her. She went to get up but wobbled. His hand shot and caught hers, helping her up.  
“That’s because you were never really fragile. It’s why I spent so much time tormenting you – I saw it as the best challenge to see if I can crack you open.” His voice was low, and his breath washed across her face, and Hermione felt her heart skip.   
Fear, she thought and tried her best to remember every time he insulted her, but all she could remember is his smile, from a year ago. Another idea popped in her head and she acted before she could talk herself out of it. She dropped the bottle on the table next to her and grabbed Malfoy by his tie to pull him to her. She crashed her lips into his, the kiss was anything but gentle. He let go of her hand and she immediately buried it in his hair to pull him closer, grasping a handful and tugging. A growl rose in his chest and she felt it vibrating through her mouth. With one hand he pinned her waist to him, the other going to the nape of her neck. She expected the kiss to be sloppy, but it wasn’t. Every movement no matter how small Malfoy would make was in favour of driving her wild. Every nip at her lip resulted in a moan, every time his fingers flexed on the back of her neck, she would shiver against him. With another growl and a strong grip on her neck, Malfoy tilted her head backwards and his lips left hers.  
“Merlin, Granger.” He said, his voice thick. He cleared his throat and looked at her. His lips were red and swollen and Hermione could imagine hers looked similar. “I wanted to do that since I saw you today. That and more.” He said and looked down, further than her mouth. His hand flexed again before relaxing a little.   
“Then why did you stop?” she asked trying to pull him back to her, but he was stronger.   
“This is a bad idea.” He said tracing the edge of her jaw with his thumb. “What would people think?”  
“Sod it. Sod everyone.” She knew it was not her rational brain talking. She knew this would be a hell to explain to anyone, and that it is a bad idea. But the thought of him pulling away from her, of letting go of his hold on her, sent panic through her whole body. He huffed a laugh and dipped his head low to trace open-mouthed kisses across her neck. Her breath hitched and she moaned.  
“What would your friends say if they could see you now?” he breathed into the hollow under her ear. “If you want, I will stop. You’ll walk out of here and never see me again.” His words sent a chill down her spine and she did something she has never done before. Not with Victor, not with Cormac, and definitely not with Ron. He was sweet but he had never made her blood boil as Malfoy did. She grabbed him by the belt and slammed her hips into his.  
“Don’t talk to me like I’m going to fall apart.” She hissed and he smiled at her. With a swift movement, he ducked one arm under her ass and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. He took a few steps to one of the railings and let her sit there, her legs still wrapped around him.   
“Don’t lean back too much.” He said and connected their lips again. As he deepened the kiss, he pushed more and more into her and she held tighter to him. With a gasp, he moved from her lips to her neck and grasped both his hands around her ribs, to keep her balanced on the railing. Her hands dove under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders.   
“Hold tight,” he said as he pulled away to take off his jacket and shirt, throwing them to the floor. She grasped his belt again and he smirked at her. “This belt seems to be quite a magnet for you.” He said and his hands started undoing her shirt.   
“I just can’t wait to take it off you.” His hands stilled just as they finished undoing her blouse. She was mortified she had said that but in her defence she had never been this intimate with someone as talkative as Malfoy. He took off her shirt and threw it in the pile with his clothes.   
“Well, well. What are you waiting for then?” he asked pulling away slightly and unclasped her bra.   
“A more comfortable position.” She said, tugging him to her and he didn’t wait. He pulled her closer. She could feel his muscles work as he lifted her from the rail and carried her to the centre of the room, he knelt down, and carefully laid her down on the thick carpet. He pulled away and ran his hand slowly down her neck, between her breasts and down her stomach, revelling in how her back arched to follow his hand. Her reached the waistband of her trousers and hooked his fingers under it, before sitting on his heels.   
“Seeing you like this is better than I imagined.” He said quietly as if he was speaking to himself. Hermione could feel the tips of her ears turning pink. He undid her trousers and helped her shimmy out of them before she sat up to undo his belt. “There,” he said as he tossed it aside.   
“Whatever will I hold on to now?” she asked sarcastically, and he pushed her back down, his hand pressing on her sternum. It slowly travelled up to her neck, and her breath hitched. His fingers flexed around her neck and rested there, not squeezing too hard, but holding her in place. The rings on his fingers began warming up from the warmth of her skin.  
“I have an idea. It’s in the same ballpark.” Hermione gasped when one of his knees pressed between her thighs. He kissed her harshly and she could feel his smirk, as she started grinding on his knee, desperate for some friction. “There, there.” His lips left hers and his hand let go of her neck, as he returned to unbuttoning his trousers. For a second, she could just stare at the ceiling catching her breath, hearing her heartbeat in her ears. His hand tugging on her underwear brought her out. “Didn’t I tell you thinking is dangerous? I’m doing my best work here and you’re missing it.” She propped herself on one elbow to look at him.  
“Trust me, I’m not missing a thing.” She said and sat up, as he was pulling her underwear off her ankles. She planted her feet on either side of his knees, and he leaned forward until their bodies were pressed together, hers sandwiched between him and the carpet. A pendant on a long silver chain dangled from his neck. He was propped up on one hand as the other reached between them and slid a finger between her folds. She gasped and bucked her hips upwards.  
“Easy there, love.” He said bringing his hand up. “Take those off.” He wiggled his fingers and she reached with her closest hand, slipping his rings off his hand. “Toss them anywhere.” He said and his hand returned between her folds.  
“You’ll lose them.” She gasped and he met her eyes.  
“I’ll buy new ones.” He thrust two fingers inside her and she made an audible gasp, her back arching to meet his body. “Less thinking,” he pulled his fingers halfway before slamming back inside her, whispering in her ear, “Hermione.” She moaned loudly as his palm made contact with her clit. His mouth latched to a sensitive spot just above her collarbone, where her neck meets her shoulders.  
“Oh, yes.” She moaned and Draco picked up the pace pulling himself away from her to look at her, as she wriggled and squirmed. She could feel his naked erection pressing against her thigh and he would grunt when her leg twitched and rubbed against him. She felt the build-up of an orgasm in the pit of her stomach. “Draco… I’m…” he pulled away from her a little more and she grabbed the chain around his neck pulling him back down.  
“Say it again.” He whispered in her ear, nipping on the lobe. It took every ounce of concentration he had to maintain rhythm. “I want you to say my name as you come.” He attached his lips under her ear and revelled in the vibrations of the uncontrollable sounds she made.   
“Draco. Draco.” The name felt like a payer and in many ways it was. She was getting closer to the edge with every thrust of his hand. She buried her face in his neck and bit him as she came in his hand. His breath hitched when her teeth sank in his flesh and he let out a guttural moan. She kissed softly the two crescent moons her teeth had left, as Draco removed his hand. He used her distracted state to quickly pull her on top of him, so she was straddling his lap. He moaned and twitched as her core made contact with his erection. A wicked smile spread on her face and she curled her lip upward the same way he does. She planted one hand on his firm chest, and she rocked back and forth, rubbing herself against him. With the hand that was just inside her, Draco reached for her face and ran his thumb over her swollen lips, before gripping her thigh.  
“Does that smile mean that I’m in trouble?” She lifted her hips a fraction and leaned forward until her face was just above his. She took hold of his left wrist and went to pull it over his head when he sharply tore it out of her grasp. He sat up with her in his lap, sharp gasps emitting from both of them when he enters her. She grasps his shoulders tightly. But his eyes are still wide and scared. “Not this arm.” He says quietly and she remembers – his dark mark is on his left hand, the one he had been propped on, safely hidden out of her line of sight. Hermione lifted her hips and sat back down, feeling him stretch her. She locked her eyes on his and interlaced her right hand with his left and held tightly as he tried to pull away again. She lifted her hips halfway off him and stopped there. He jerked upwards but he achieved little.  
“It’s alright.” She whispered as she pulled his left hand towards her and brushed the back of his forearm against the rough scar on her left forearm. He hissed and looked down, staring at the MUDBLOOD that his aunt had carved in her arm still looked almost fresh. She used his momentary distraction to slam her hips down on him.  
“Fuck.” Was all he could muster as she repeated the movement slamming into him faster and faster. His right arm encircled her waist, and she brought his left hand up to her neck. He hesitated, looking her dead in the eyes.  
“Do it, damn it.” She said in a stern voice as she slammed particularly hard down on him and he obliged. She leaned back to get a better angle as she continued to ride him. His hand held her throat but didn’t squeeze. His head fell forward until he had latched on to one of her nipples and rolled it between his teeth. A stream of curses and moans fell from her lips and his hips jerked up to meet her.  
“Touch yourself.” He whispered as he removed his right hand from around her waist and pulled back, his left hand still holding her throat. “I want to see you touch yourself as you ride me. And this time say my name when you come.” She nodded and one of her hands snuck between them until it reached her clit. With every move she made, she could feel him twitch to meet her.   
“Draco, I’m…” her mind was going blank as her movements got more erratic.  
“Say it. I want to hear you scream my name.” He released her neck and sank his teeth there, a returned gesture.  
“Draco!” she yelled as she convulsed around him, her orgasm washing over her.  
“Hermione.” He whispered in her neck as he came shortly after. They stilled, desperately trying to catch their breaths. She pulled away first but didn’t stand up. She just reached for the necklace around his neck.  
“What’s this?” she asked turning the small pendant over in her fingers. He leaned back on his hands studying her face. Her hair had come undone, her face was flushed, and her lips were swollen. She was covered in a sheen of sweat and bite marks. Draco had never felt more infatuated with someone after he’d had sex with them.  
“A ministry listening device.” He said and Hermione’s face drained of colour. His hand shot to stroke her cheek. “I’m kidding Granger!” He said through a laugh and she shoved his chest back; he fell bringing her down with him. He pulled out of her and slid her halfway off his body, so one of her legs was still draped over him. He lay on his arm and she stared down at him. “It used to be my father’s Death Eater ring. I had it melted down and turned into a pendant.”  
“But it’s empty.” Said Hermione running her fingers over the smooth surface. Draco shrugged.  
“I didn’t know what to put on it, so I left it smooth. If I ever decide I can always take it back to be redone.” She let the pendant rest on his sternum.   
“Join me for breakfast tomorrow?” she asked quietly sitting up, mainly so she didn’t have to look at him when he declined. She reached over for her underwear – the closest clothing item she could find.  
“You’re the queen of segues, Granger.” He chuckled, kissing the back of her shoulder with an open mouth. “Okay. If you promise Longbottom will not turn me into a mandrake or whatever.” She turned to him surprised.  
“You’ll come?” he captured her chin and met her lips with force.   
“I thought I just did.” She shoved him back playfully.  
“You’re still a crude arse.” She said getting dressed. He turned around and put his rings back on, before also starting to get dressed.  
“I’m not about to undo decades of hard work it took to become the crude arse I am today.” He reached for his shirt and pinned Hermione with her back to the railing, hips pressed together. “Do me a favour and wear a skirt tomorrow?” he whispered into her neck as he kissed her.  
“Why?”  
“So that I can slip my hand under your skirt at the breakfast table.” He licked a stripe up her neck and her breath hitched. She didn’t have time to respond before he kissed her again and grabbed the empty fire whiskey bottle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He winked and walked out of the Divination classroom. Hermione made her way back to the rooms McGonagall had told her would be her home for a week. Luna was sitting in the common room talking to the Hufflepuff and Slytherin girls.  
“Hi, Hermione” greeted her Luna cheerfully. “We’ve been looking for you.”  
“Oh, I was… you know… reminiscing.” She said, touching her fingers to the top button of her blouse to make sure she buttoned it. Her hair was a mess but there was little she had done about it. “What are you talking about?” she asked desperate to take the attention away from her.  
“We wanted to ask you if it would be okay to have breakfast together, the 8 of us, tomorrow at least. To show the students that house loyalty should only go so far.” Said the Hufflepuff girl. Hermione was sure she’d met her, but couldn’t remember her name.  
“We just wanted to make sure you’re cool with it. With Malfoy being here. I know you guys didn’t have the best of relationships while here.” Added the Slytherin girl, Greengrass.   
“Oh,” Hermione thought of her most recent experience with Malfoy. “Yeah, that’s alright. In fact, I ran into him after dinner and already invited him.”  
“Are you sure you’re okay with it?”  
“Yes, Luna.” Hermione’s voice was sterner than she intended. “I’m not made of glass, stop coddling me.” Luna didn’t seem at the least offended. Instead, she nodded and smiled.  
“You’re right. I’m sorry about that. Ron told me you might be a little fragile, but I guess he was being overprotective.” Hermione nodded and tapped Luna on the shoulder for goodnight.  
The next morning, Hermione put on a pair of slacks just to fuck with Malfoy, which didn’t stop him to sneak his hand so high up her thigh she almost jumped out of her seat when he squeezed.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione adjusted her tie and fixed her pointy hat. She walked out of her bedroom and into the living room, where her boyfriend was quietly reading a book. She did a twirl for him.  
“What do you think?” she asked him.  
“Granger, what the bloody hell are you wearing?” asked Draco, putting his book down.  
“I’m a witch.” She said and pointed to her hat.  
“I know you’re a witch. We went to school together.” He said and walked over to her, carefully touching the pointy hat as if it was about to come to life. “Does it talk?”  
“No, Malfoy. I’m a muggle witch. Um, a witch as imagined my muggles.” She pointed to the hat. “It’s the staple of Halloween witch costumes.” Her boyfriend huffed and rolled his eyes. She knew she’d been pushing his limits all week so she took off the hat and placed it by the door. “I’ll put it on only for the kids.” She said and gave him a quick kiss.  
“And what’s with the rest of the ensemble?” he asked hooking a finger under her green-and-silver striped tie. He quirked a brow.  
“It’s a Slytherin uniform.” She said. “That’s for your benefit.” She said with a wink and he wrapped his left hand around her throat.   
“It’d better be. It’s not enough I agreed to spend Halloween in the muggle world, you made me wear this ridiculous costume,” he nodded to his all-black suit. His costume was a complicated and quite frankly too realistic skull makeup, which she agreed to do with magic. She tried to explain to him that he was the Grim Reaper, and it took a lot of convincing. But he agreed. He always put up a front but then relented. “I now have to give candy to muggle children.” She bit his bottom lip and felt his hand squeeze her neck.  
“Only until 7. Then we lock the door and do whatever you want.” He curled his lip in a wicked smile and pushed his knee between her legs, tilting her back. The bell rang this moment and Draco gave out a low rumble. Hermione laughed and extracted herself from his grip. She put her hat on and grabbed the plastic scythe, handing it to Draco. He took it.  
“I’m going to curse them.” He said, a sour look on his face.  
“You will do no such thing.” She said fixing his clothes. “Just stand there, look scary. You’ve been doing it successfully for decades, it shouldn’t be too hard.” He bared his teeth to her, and she snapped her back at him. she turned to open the door and didn’t see him smile at her.  
“Trick or treat!” yelled the group of kids outside.  
“Oh, my you look amazing!” she started handing out candy.   
“You’re a witch!” said a little girl as Hermione put a candy bar in her plastic pumpkin. “Me too!” Hermione winked at her.  
“I’m a real witch,” she whispered.  
“So is my mum! She has a wand and all!” Hermione smiled and looked up at the girl's mother, who looked borderline terrified. Hermione stood up and let the mother see her Hogwarts uniform.  
“It was nice to meet you all!” Said Hermione to the kids and met the mother’s eyes again, but she was looking at Draco, eyes wide. “Bye.” Said Hermione as the mother rushed the kids away. She sighed closing the door.  
“I told you it was a bad idea.” Mumbled Draco and Hermione took off her hat.   
“She looked so scared. I think she really is a witch.” Draco nodded.  
“She recognised me.” Said Draco and cupped the nape of Hermione’s neck. “I’m sorry. Here, I’ll try better not to look like myself next time.” She smiled and kissed him.   
“It’s alright. I’ve asked enough of you. Just stand there and brood as I give out the candy.” She grabbed him by the chin and pulled him to her.  
“You look good in Slytherin green.” He said tugging on her skirt. The doorbell rang again and Hermione lifter her finger in warning. “No cursing. Only brooding.”  
“Trick or Treat!” yelled the next group of kids.  
At 7 promptly Draco took the Jack O’Lantern inside and turned off the porch light. Hermione had discarded the hat and was lounging on the couch, tie slightly undone. He knelt in front of her on the couch and pulled her legs apart, so he was bracketed between her knees.  
“Time to start paying,” he said sliding his hands up her thighs.  
Several hours later, dressed in his shirt and the Slytherin tie, Hermione appeared form the kitchen with two mugs of tea. Draco took one as they sat on the couch, the TV drumming in the background as the two of them read their respective books. Draco had been against the TV at first, but he came around after a few days. He would just tune it out now.  
“I’m having lunch with Harry and Ron tomorrow.” She said lazily, her head resting on his stomach. He hummed in response.  
“I should have left more love bites, then.” He added as an afterthought. “I’ll go and visit Mummy then. She’s been asking about you.”  
“Tell her I say hi,” responded Hermione. She knew what was being left out of that sentence. His mother has been asking out of politeness, his father would rather bite his own tongue off than admit is son is dating a muggle-born. This whole charade today was because Draco anted to bring her to the annual Yule party at the Malfoy Manor. He was the one paying in advance.  
“Granger, look at me.” He said sternly and she lowered her head to his lap to look up at him. His hand buried itself in her hair, tugging slightly. “We’ll try. If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll go.” she nodded. They’ve already had that talk a few times. “You’re not as breakable as you think. You’ve been dating me for a year, after all.” She smiled up at him.  
“It has been almost a year hasn’t it?”  
“A year and a few days since the Divination classroom. A year precisely since the Room of requirement. It’ll be a year in 3 days since our first date.”  
“Aww, look at you, the soft romantic.” She said mockingly, pinching his cheek. The hand in her hair tightened and pulled her up. She straddled his lap.   
“Witch.”  
“Bastard.” She rolled her hips.  
“Mudblood” he whispered, closing his eyes and burying his head in the crook of her neck.  
“Death Eater.” She whined as his hand found its way to her clit.

The next day Ron was critically assessing Hermione’s neck.  
“Nothing to show?” he asked and Hermione blushed.  
“He’s not an animal, Ron.” She chastised his tone of voice. Her, Ron, and Harry were having lunch in a pub near the ministry.   
“No, he just calls you a Mudblood.” Hermione has been regretting that night she got drunk and told Harry and Ron.  
“Ron,” said Harry. “Take it easy. We’re all dealing with it as we best see fit.”  
“Yeah, but Ginny isn’t belittling you left and right.” He retorted.  
“Boys.” Said Hermione. “It’s not about the word itself. In fact, it’s about reclaiming it. It’s etched on my arm forever; I might as well feel comfortable with it.” Ron opened his mouth to respond. “I call him Death eater. Does that calm you down, Ron? We belittle each other.”  
“How does he react?” Asked Harry. Hermione gave him a wink.  
“Quite positively.” Ron made a gagging sound.  
“Alright, alright,” he said taking a sip from his beer. “Let’s change the subject, this is getting gross.” Harry and Hermione laughed; Ron joined them in a chuckle.  
“How’s your girl Ron?” asked Hermione, “Any pet names for her we should know about?” She leaned forward on the table. Ron’s face took the colour of his hair. He shook his head, shoving a chip in his mouth.


End file.
